


send noots

by rocoroloco (wafumayo)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff and Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Penguins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25638343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafumayo/pseuds/rocoroloco
Summary: “That’s how it’s done, newbie,” Akechi said, a hint of something darker in his voice as he picked up the empty box. His shoulders brushed against Akira’s lightly as he walked past him and out of the exhibit.It made perfect sense then, of course, that this interaction would cement Akechi as “the scary, insufferable, and sexy senpai” in Akira’s head. He’d never been the most conventional guy when it came to choosing a romantic partner, but Akechi took the cake when it came to “People Who Are Probably A Bad Idea To Date.”He asked Akechi out a month after their initial encounter in the penguin exhibit, and Akechi said yes almost immediately.ORAkira and Akechi work together at the Shinagawa Aquarium, caring for the aquarium's rookery of penguins. Shenanigans unfortunately ensue.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77





	send noots

**Author's Note:**

> I hate this fic with a burning passion. This is my "cute fic written as an apology for all the dead doves" and somehow it just got away from me. I am having such a hard time with the second part that I decided to just cut it in half and upload the first half first before AU-Gust started in earnest.
> 
> Big thank you to the discord for even discussing this idea with me in the first place, and an even bigger thank you to [lady_peony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_peony/pseuds/lady_peony) for helping me wrangle this mess.

_First Encounter_

When Akira first was assigned to the Magellanic penguin exhibit at the Shinagawa Aquarium in Tokyo, he could hardly bite back his excitement. Not only was he in charge of taking care of some of the cutest animals available, but he was also going to be partnered up with and taught by _the_ Akechi Goro. 

Akechi Goro had been considered a prodigy in marine biology, even a year after he graduated from Tokyo University. Akira had spent his entire time studying fish and marine mammals listening to how Akechi was able to name practically every fish in the sea, how he was able to take care of almost every sick animal under his care. 

The first thing that Akechi said to him was “Hello, my name is Akechi Goro. I hope we can get along well during our time here” with a hand extended for him to shake. 

Akira had taken it. It had been a nice handshake - firm and strong, the dry warmth of his hand meeting the calloused skin of Akechi’s. Akira never considered himself to be the type of person to be the sweet kouhai type; he never really liked the idea of someone being more worthy of respect just because they were born earlier than you. But Akechi Goro, the prodigy of the Tokyo University’s marine biology department, was special. 

All the things he would learn about biology from Akechi. All the things he would be able to absorb by just watching Akechi feed penguins or play with them or taking them on penguin parades around the aquarium. It helps, of course, that Akechi is one of the prettiest people that Akira has ever met, which was quite the compliment, considering that Akira was friends with Mika, one of the most promising models of his generation.

That is, until Akechi had taken one look at the way Akira tried to put a pink sweater on Sumire to demonstrate to the public on how conservationalists dressed up penguins to prevent their feathers from sticking together in the unfortunate event of an oil spill. 

“Have you never done this before?” Akechi asked, a chipper tone in his voice and a wide smile on his face as he looked down at Akira and Sumire.

“Yes?” Akira replied, unsure of why Akechi was asking this particular question. They had attended the same marine biology program at the same university, where one of the more popular assignments had been doing exactly this. 

“Hm,” Akechi said, the bright smile on his face never wavering. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you being a little too rough with Sumire? She’s one of the smaller ones we have.”

Akira looked down at Sumire, caught in his grip. The little penguin was struggling against his hold, her wings flapping as she tried to escape. He had thought her oddly slippery, but this was the exact same method and strength with which he put the sweaters onto the other penguins, and none of them had struggled this much.

He loosened his grip and Sumire wormed her way out from the pink sweater and darted off as quickly as she could with a penguin waddle, her flippers splayed out to her sides for balance. She huddled close to her sweatered brethren, who surrounded her with comforting chirrups as if to say that her ordeal with the horrible human was over for now.

“Oops,” Akechi said, “did I distract you? That wasn’t my intention.”

Akira looked up at Akechi and noticed that the expression on his face as plastic as the bottles they fish out of the ocean.

“Right,” Akira said as he stood up and gave the sweater to Akechi. “It’s fine. Why don’t you show me how it’s done then, senpai?”

“Gladly,” Akechi replied.

He walked towards the penguins, who all backed off immediately as if Akechi was a killer whale rather than a caretaker. The only penguins who remained were Sumire and Kasumi, who looked up and ruffled their feathers as if to say “look at me.” 

From his vantage point, Akira couldn’t see exactly what Akechi was doing when he crouched down in front of Sumire. The whole process must have taken less than a second before Akechi stood up and shot Akira a proud smirk from over his shoulder. 

Sumire flapped her wings, a pink sweater around her little torso. Akira felt like he was going crazy, because he could almost see a satisfied smile on her beak.

“That’s how it’s done, newbie,” Akechi said, a hint of something darker in his voice as he picked up the empty box. His shoulders brushed against Akira’s lightly as he walked past him and out of the exhibit.

It made perfect sense then, of course, that this interaction would cement Akechi as “the scary, insufferable, and sexy senpai” in Akira’s head. He’d never been the most conventional guy when it came to choosing a romantic partner, but Akechi took the cake when it came to “People Who Are Probably A Bad Idea To Date.”

He asked Akechi out a month after their initial encounter in the penguin exhibit, and Akechi said yes almost immediately.

* * *

_Three Months In_

Akira had been a fan of the Shinagawa Aquarium even before he decided to go into marine biology. Every single birthday from his third to the fifteenth was spent at the aquarium, his little nose pressed up against the glass of the exhibits even though he knew that he was probably being a nuisance to the other aquarium visitors. He was there at every penguin parade, asking questions to the kindly caretaker about the types of penguins at the zoo, and what it was like working at Shinagawa Aquarium.

Of particular interest to him had been the relationship chart that the Shinagawa Aquarium published every year that showcased the penguins’ various romances and dramas. He knew exactly about how Makoto and Sae had an on-and-off relationship despite being sisters. He clutched his hand to his chest when he learned of Makoto cheating on Sae with Yusuke, while Sae went between Tae and Haru, the latter of whom had pined over Makoto for four years straight while Makoto remained painfully oblivious. 

Every year, Akira was glued to his screen as he read through the differences in the relationships, his hand to his mouth like he always saw his mother do when she watched her stories on television. He had secretly placed bets with himself, as to what changes would happen next year, such as whether Makoto would finally accept Haru or not. Or whether or not Sae would finally attack Caretaker Kobayakawa in a jealous frenzy over Kobayakawa’s constant usage of Makoto for the penguin sweater public outreach program.

It’s an understatement to say that it had been a bit of a surprise to him when he found himself staring at his own stern face on the chart, about three months into his tenure at the Shinagawa Aquarium.

His employee portrait was right in the middle of the whole chart, with various red arrows pointing at him from all over, until his face looked like an elementary school student’s ideas of a sun. Little phrasings such as “loves him” and “goes crazy for him” and “only takes fish from him” were written on all of the arrows, and it made him look like he had planted himself squarely in the middle of every single penguin pair.

“That’s the man who is in love with all the penguins!” He heard a child exclaim while pointing at him once.

By the time he turned around to try and tell the kid that _no_ , he was just a _penguin caretaker_ and not actually in love with the penguins, the mother had already pulled him away, berating him for talking about strange people within their earshot.

It had been one of the sadder shifts in his life, right after the one where he had been pooped on five times by seagulls.

He wasn’t sure exactly where the infatuation came from. Almost every penguin in the exhibit had given him a little rock (each stored lovingly in the bottom shelf of his work desk in the caretaker office). They cooperated with him every time he needs to dress them up or weigh them or feed them. Sometimes they got a little overenthusiastic, but never enough to become a problem. 

Once Ryuji had slapped Yusuke so hard that Yusuke fell right into the water, squawking and flapping his wings indignantly the entire time, just because Ryuji wanted to get to Akira first when Akira entered the penguin exhibit. It didn’t seem to be out of any malicious intent, since Ryuji and Yusuke were right back to preening each other and crooning after Akira left, but it had been enough to make Ryuji the “Bad Penguin of the Month.”

“It’s just that you’re new here,” Chihaya, one of the senior caretakers at the aquarium, said encouragingly. “They won’t be bothering you for long once they get used to you.”

And Chihaya was right, sort of. The more extreme actions taken by the penguins did die down as time passed, but they never stopped completely. Akira still found himself adding more and more gifted rocks to his little pile in the shelf, and was starting to worry that maybe one day he would have to start bringing them home. 

However, there were more pressing issues in Akira’s professional life than just his anxieties about how strong the bottom shelf of his desk is. Futaba, one of the younger and newer penguins in the exhibit, absolutely refused to socialize properly with the rest of the flock. Whenever Akechi was in the exhibit, she honked and flapped her wings until Akechi left, but when Akira went inside, she was all over him. 

Akira had an entire separate box filled with rocks that Futaba gave him over the weeks. He’d also gotten used to walking around with Futaba weaving around between his legs, since she refuses to let him do his work without trying to tangle herself around him. The first time he walked around with Futaba practically nipping at his ankles, he fell on his face almost ten times - his glasses were skewed for a good two months after a particularly bad fall against a rock, his schedule between work and date nights meaning that he had to put it off until taking paid leave. 

He’d often seen her through the glass window pressed against the hidden door out of the exhibit even hours after he left, her entire torso flat against the metal and making sad honking noises until Sumire could cajole her away.

“You’re being too soft on Futaba,” Akechi snapped at him one day while they were on their break. He had an overpriced cafeteria coffee in his hand and was stirring in three sugar cubes with a spoon, a cross look on his face. “You need to set boundaries or she’s never going to be able to get used to living with the other penguins.”

“I can’t just kick her away when she comes to me,” Akira protested. “That’s animal abuse.”

Akechi scowled and drank his coffee. He had a deep grimace on his face when he set the cup down. “I didn’t say that you should _kick_ her,” he said, “but I do think it’s not that hard to just throw a fish when she’s trying to trip you up. She’s just a penguin, she’s not that hard to trick.”

Akira had tried that before, because he’s not an idiot. Futaba had barely even looked at the fish, no matter how many times Akira flung them after waving them in front of her beak. All of the fish had been eaten up by Ryuji and Mishima, who seemed to think that it was some sort of fun game and for a while, had refused to eat any fish unless they had to fetch it.

He didn’t go into all that, though. If Akechi didn’t know that Akira has accidentally turned some of the penguins into sea dogs, then that’s for the best.

“I have tried that,” was all he said. “It didn’t work. She just ignored the fish.”

“Hmm,” Akechi said. He crossed his arms. 

Akira knew exactly what that meant. He wasn’t thinking of a way to help him with his problem. He was judging him hard. This was the exact same look on his face and the exact same sound he made just the week previous when Akira had eaten a three-patty hamburger in four bites and then spent almost the entire night moaning on the bed with indigestion.

To be honest, Akechi had brought up Akira’s attitude with the penguins multiple times now. Futaba was just the fourth penguin that Akechi’s complained about. 

At first, Akechi’s complaints about the way Akira’s treating the penguins had been legitimate. It was not exactly enriching for the penguins if Akira simply hand-fed them (not to say boring to watch as an audience member during their feeding shows), and it was not fair for some of the penguins for Akira to constantly toss the fish into the crowd too. But then Akechi started to be more and more petty about so many penguin problems that at a certain point, Akira wondered if Akechi was just trying to find an excuse to bully him. 

“Yusuke and Ryuji are an item, so you shouldn’t get your smell over Yusuke so much when you are putting his sweater on him,” Akechi had said one week.

A nod and a murmur of “I understand, Akechi-senpai.”

“Yusuke and Ryuji broke up, but now Yusuke is in love with Ann, and Ryuji is in love with Makoto, so those four penguins can’t be weighed together at the same time,” Akechi had said another week.

A nod and a murmur of “Of course, Akechi-senpai.”

“Makoto is dating Haru again now, but Ryuji is still in love with Makoto, so when you see Ryuji hanging around Makoto, you _need_ to insert yourself in between them before Haru sees. Otherwise, you’ll find Ryuji hanging by his entrails tomorrow,” Akechi said yet another week later.

That last piece of advice, though, Akira had actually rebutted with, “Would Haru really do that?”

Akechi didn’t say anything. He just looked away, into the penguin exhibit, where Haru was carefully shuffling over towards Makoto with a rock clasped between her feet, her beak clacking with excitement when Makoto waddled towards her with a greeting squawk.

For some reason, the silence frightened Akira, and the view of Haru’s domesticity did nothing to absolve Akira of his fear. 

The rest of their shift passed in silence, until Akechi told Akira to listen to his senpais when they tell him things, and then he was gone for the day.

In retrospect, Akira wasn’t positive if that was Akechi trying to be helpful or Akechi trying to just scare him with some urban legends about the Shinagawa Aquarium. It wasn’t until he was looking up records to compare weights that he found a penguin whose name was redacted, with the cause of death redacted as well, that he started wondering if Akechi had been telling the truth the whole time.

* * *

_Five Months In…_

Akira wasn’t entirely sure if Akechi meant to be sneaky or not, but he’d noticed during his first real shift with Akechi that Akechi is uncharacteristically soft on Sumire and Kasumi. He wasn’t sure if the two penguins were attached to him because of the extra fish that he snuck them, or the soft pats he gave them during weighing days. He wasn’t sure if the reason why he gave them preferential treatment was because they loved him so much, or if they loved him so much _because_ Akechi was extra nice to them.

It was a deplorable act, if it were the latter. Akechi was buying the affections of the penguins rather than allowing them to form their own bonds of their own accords. Akira didn’t want to think anything bad of his boyfriend, but there was something insidious about the way that Akechi’s face went soft and his touches became so gentle when he was around Sumire and Kasumi.

Akira had never seen such a tender look directed at _him_ , even though he’s been helping Akechi organize his closet without any pay, and feeding Akechi homemade curry instead of leaving him to drown in the lesser wares offered by the aquarium cafeteria. 

When Akechi walked into the exhibit with Akira one day, Akira was immediately swarmed by the majority of the penguins. Their honking and their flapping were a cacophony that he had long since grew used to. Whenever he turned to see how Akechi is doing throughout the shift, he would usually see him gently tickling Sumire under her beak, or speaking softly to Kasumi, his voice pitched two octaves higher than the usual. 

That was the norm for Akechi and Akira’s penguin shifts, and Akira couldn’t help but feel incensed by it.

“The penguins are all supposed to eat the same amount,” Akira pointed out, when he noticed Akechi toss a fish into Sumire’s beak - an entire fish extra than the usual amount. Akira had been surreptitiously watching and counting the whole time. Akechi was definitely feeding Sumire more food than he should. “It isn’t entirely fair that Sumire and Kasumi always eat more.”

“When you do your thing and just fling all the fish into the crowd of penguins at once, Sumire and Kasumi are often left out,” Akechi shot back. “They’re _supposed_ to eat the same amount, but with the way you feed them, the smaller and weaker penguins are never going to get the same chances as their stronger peers.”

“I feed them all an equal amount,” Akira replied, because he really did, especially after Akechi burned him so badly the first time he called him out on his poor feeding habits. “You were the one who taught me how to feed them. The way I feed them is exactly the same as yours.”

Akechi hummed as he allowed Sumire to nibble on his gloved hand. It was the same hum he made when he was reading a particularly interesting book, and coincidentally, when he decided that whatever Akira said wasn’t worthy of his attention. 

Every time Akechi pointed out something that Akira did wrong, Akira changed his attitude and methods immediately. Less because he wanted to impress his boyfriend, and more because Akechi genuinely had really good advice when it came to taking care of marine animals.

Akechi hardly returned the favour, though, even throwing in extra-condescending and snide comments whenever he noticed Akira slipping back into his bad habits. He didn’t let up on feeding Kasumi and Sumire extra fish, and he didn’t stop giving them extra pats and coos during weighing day. When they went on monthly penguin walks through the zoo, Akechi would always let Kasumi and Sumire waddle along next to him, while all the other penguins were forced to walk behind him instead. 

It wasn’t fair, in Akira’s opinion, that no other penguin ever gets to walk in the front of the line. No, really, Sumire and Kasumi weren’t even part of the line half of the time. They were always walking right next to Akechi, keeping up with his long-legged strides effortlessly with their little penguin runs. They weren’t part of the penguin flock once out of the exhibit, under Akechi’s wings. They were caretakers right there alongside Akechi and Akira.

“Are you trying to turn those two into honourary caretakers?” Akira asked Akechi as casually as he could one day during dinner. The two had started a tradition of visiting Akira’s apartment for dinner after work, at Akira’s insistence. He had not reacted very well to visiting Akechi’s barebones apartment, with his one sad bag of apples withering away at the back of his empty fridge.

Akechi had been lazing around on the couch rather than helping with setting the table or cooking, his eyes fixed on his phone, but at Akira’s question, he looked up. “I’m sorry?” 

“Sumire and Kasumi,” Akira explained, scooping out ladles of curry and drowning the bowls of rice with the stew. “You treat them like you’re training them.”

He didn’t even need to turn around to feel the heavy weight of Akechi’s judgemental gaze. “What are you talking about?” Akechi scoffed. “I trained you. You know that I’m not that soft.”

Akira could barely believe what he’s hearing. He turned around and stared at Akechi in incredulity, but Akechi wasn’t even looking at him anymore. He was looking back down at his phone.

“You admit it, then?” Akira asked, his voice strained as he pushed the words past his dry throat. “You admit that you’re soft for them?”

Akechi didn’t say anything. It seemed that Akira has caught him red-handed.

“I knew you were too nice to them,” Akira bemoaned, “and that you treat them much nicer than you have ever treated me. What do they have that I don’t? What is it about them that you like so much? What do I need to do to make you look at and treat me like you treat Kasumi and Sumire?”

Akechi’s head jerked up from the phone and he stared at Akira for a long while, a cold look in his expression. Akira’s heart was pounding in his chest, so loud that he could practically hear the roaring of his blood in his ears.

Did he need to wear more white in his wardrobe, rather than black all the time? Did he need to learn how to swim and dive, rather than simply doggy-paddling whenever he and Akechi went to the beach?

What if it wasn’t even something he could fix? What did Sumire and Kasumi have that he doesn’t? Eggs. Female. Feathers.

Which was it, Akechi? What did Akira need to do to convince him that he’s better than a pair of penguins?

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Akechi said slowly, “but you sound pretty crazy right now, I hope you realize.” He stood up and walked out of Akira’s apartment, calling over his shoulder, “Since dinner isn’t ready yet, I’ll take my leave. Text me when you feel like having a _real_ conversation with me. Like we’re adults.”

And with a slam of the door, he was gone, leaving Akira alone in the kitchen, two steaming bowls of curry ready in his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter is [wafumayo](https://twitter.com/wafumayo) and my Tumblr is [surelynotshirley](http://surelynotshirley.tumblr.com)


End file.
